


High Winter in Polaris

by Istezada



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, kissing under the mistletoe, what's even up with that?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-17 21:37:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21650170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Istezada/pseuds/Istezada
Summary: A collection of winter stories for my D&D rogue.Allow me to introduce a young princeling who goes by the name of Azar Khulasa. He's occasionally an idiot, he's the only son of the Lady of the Winter Court, and... well... he has some adventures.
Kudos: 1





	High Winter in Polaris

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be updated as I go along.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Azar discovers a baffling human tradition.

Azar squinted up at the clusters of leaves and tiny white berries that were hung at various points around the room. The party was in full swing, or so he assumed. Sarasian celebrations were only vaguely recognizable when compared to similar gatherings at home. There were fewer deals and backstabbings (metaphorical or otherwise), for one thing.

Still.

High Winter's Night was a thing everywhere, it seemed, even in Saras, which hadn’t had contact with the Queen of Air and Darkness (or her Court) for nearly two centuries.

“You’ve got that look again,” Skar said from across the table. “Don’t go killing anyone tonight, remember?”

Azar snorted and dropped his gaze to meet the goblin’s eyes quizzically. “What look is that?”

“The ‘What in the hells is wrong with you people’ look.” Skar’s lips twitched as he watched Azar gesture with his glass, indicating how very thoroughly he wasn’t killing anyone.

Azar grinned back and took a sip from his drink. “Do I always look like that?”

“Eh.” Skar shrugged. “It comes and goes. What’s set it off now?”

“What’s with the mistletoe?” He watched a pair of richly-dressed attendees pause under one bundle of greenery, where—blushing and laughing to the encouragement of onlookers—they kissed.

“Human thing, that is,” the wizard answered and knocked back his own drink. “S’posed to be unlucky to _not_ kiss under mistletoe, at least once, on High Winter's Night.”

Azar blinked. “Un… they _do_ realize it’s poisonous, right?”

Skar looked up at him as condescendingly as it was possible for a much shorter individual to manage. “They’re not eating it, you notice. It’s not a jumping competition. They’re kissing.”

“But _why_? Kissing under deadly poison seems like a bloody bizarre way to…”

“Humans. High Winter. Alcohol. Who fucking knows why humans do anything, kid.”

On that, at least, they could agree. Not that Azar understood what the exchange of potatoes, definitely a goblin thing, had to do with matters of courtship either. But…

Meh. If humans wanted to court, show affection, or merely perform a meaningless ritual to avoid bad luck under one of Mab’s favorite parasitics, he wasn’t about to dig into what they may or may not be offering to his Queen by doing so. It would spoil the fun.


End file.
